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Writing

10th November 2010

KP’s jet-black threadbare moustache is starting to weird everyone out. When he’s wearing a batting helmet it makes him look like a Banksy stencil of a gay Nazi. It just sits there. Menacingly. Staring you out at dinnertime. Disapproving of your dietary choices. It’s clearly sentient. More so than KP, anyway.

It’s also centre of attention for photographers out here. They chase after it when KP jogs round the training ground. You can tell which are British snappers. They’re the ones running like they’ve got an infected haemorrhoid.

Back in full training today. Andy Flower is doing my head in. “Maximise muscle memory”. “High end load our skills matrix”. “Retrofit core competencies”. And that’s just while we put out the cones. It’s like he’s fast forwarding through an audio book of Clive Woodward’s memoirs. Question is, do we have a Jonny Wilkinson? Hard to say. We’ve got bland covered but match winner?

Jimmy used the word “behest” this afternoon. Shocking. Just like that. Out of nowhere. Used it in wrong context of course. But still. Go Jimmy.

Late night team meeting about KP’s tache. Agreement reached. No one stares at it directly, we don’t get it wet, and we never feed it after midnight.

Same instructions for Steven Finn.

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